


from the ashes we can build another day

by galerian_ash



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - The Winter Soldier
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Post-TWS, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:39:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galerian_ash/pseuds/galerian_ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before, Bucky had fought with no regard to himself, having nothing worthwhile to lose — not even his own life. Now, he suddenly had something to protect. He was fighting for Steve's sake, and that made all the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from the ashes we can build another day

**Author's Note:**

> The title is borrowed from a line in "The Story In Your Eyes" by The Moody Blues.

They said you saw your life flash before your eyes when you were about to die.

Steve was facing death — again — and all he felt was regret, heavy as lead in his stomach. But this time there was anger, too. Because he shouldn't _be_ here. He should've been out, searching for Bucky, not fighting some megalomaniac bastard with some ridiculous name he couldn't even remember.

A month, that was all he'd gotten before duty called. Had it been anything less severe, he would've asked the other Avengers to handle it themselves. But with an army of robotic humanoid-rat-dog- _things_ running amok through the streets, he hadn't been able to say no. Sam, bless him, had tagged along.

They were brittle enough, the robots, but their power lay in their vast number. You smashed one, and ten took its place. They seemed to be operating under the age-old method of divide and conquer — and if you let them get too close, they seemed to know exactly where to strike to cause the most damage.

Which was why Steve was currently alone, hurt, and cornered. The robots were closing in on him and he could barely remain standing, much less put up a decent fight. He could throw his shield and take out one or two of them, but then that'd be it. He didn't stand much of a chance in hand-to-hand combat; his leg was a complete mess, and he was losing blood at an alarming rate.

Gritting his teeth, Steve prepared himself.

One of them stepped out from the rest of the horde, twisting its limbs until it was on all fours, and then it shot forward. Steve raised his shield, ready for the impact — which never came.

Someone barreled into the robot from the side, tackling it to the ground and tearing off its head.

It wasn't anyone wearing spandex or armor; it was just a man in a pair of ratty jeans. His broad back was all Steve could see as he turned to face the remaining robots, but that was more than enough. It was a view he'd seen many times before, after all — that same protective stance, seen from the exact same angle of him lying in an alley.

And when had that happened, anyway? Steve couldn't remember slipping to the ground, but there he was. Front row seat to Bucky launching himself into the fray and taking down robot after robot.

He was pretty banged up, covered in both blood and dirt, making it clear that he hadn't had an easy time getting to Steve. It was a beautiful sight nonetheless, because it was _Bucky_.

Three robots remained when one slunk away, coming up from behind Bucky. Without really thinking, Steve threw his shield. It went down with a clatter, shield embedded halfway through its torso.

Bucky took down the final robot, before stalking over to wrench the shield free. He turned to Steve, eyes blazing. "What the hell were you thinking?" he yelled.

That was... very far from what Steve had expected him to say. "Huh?" he managed, at a loss for words.

"This," Bucky snapped, raising the shield. "It's your only weapon _and_ your only defense, and you just threw it away!"

"One of them was sneaking up from behind you, I-"

"No, don't give me that. You don't know why I'm here; I could've come to kill you. You shouldn't trust me. Do you hear me, Steve? Don't trust me."

"Alright," Steve mumbled. "I got it, sorry." He didn't mean a word of it, of course, but if that was what Bucky wanted to hear, then that was what he'd say. He'd say or do anything it took, to get Bucky to stay.

Some of the tenseness and anger left Bucky's face, replaced by worry as he got a closer look at Steve's injuries. "Shit," he hissed, moving forward to kneel beside Steve.

He was so close that Steve could reach out and touch him. He probably would've, even if just to convince himself that this was really happening, if Bucky hadn't started messing with his leg. He was apparently trying to stem the flow of blood, which was probably a good idea.

There was a piece of a robot's arm impaled in his leg, and since he was already hurting like hell he might as well go all out. He moved to yank it out, only for Bucky to grab his hand.

"Leave it! Don't you remember Danforth?"

Steve remembered. Hard to forget a man whose blood had sprayed a good yard when he'd foolishly ripped out a piece of shrapnel from his throat. They'd even made a little rhyme about it — 'leave it in, or bleed out' — for the sake of the new recruits.

Not that it was much a rhyme, really. Wasn't even all that catchy, just who had come up with such a shitty-

"Steve, hey! Stay with me."

Steve blinked back the memories, focusing on Bucky. He'd taken off the tattered remains of what had once been a hooded sweatshirt, and was currently ripping it into strips.

"You... you remember that?" Steve asked. "Danforth?"

"Yes," Bucky said, distractedly, as he started tying the strips around Steve's leg, stabilizing the robot arm.

"Do you — do you remember _me_?"

Bucky's hands stilled. They were already coated in Steve's fresh blood, making for a striking combination with the silver metal of his left hand.

He looked up, smiling softly. It was the first smile from him that Steve had seen in seventy years, and his eyes welled up with tears that had nothing to do with the pain in his leg.

"Yeah, Steve, I remember you."

"Then why didn't you come to me?"

He hadn't meant to say that. He really hadn't. Bucky, however, didn't seem to mind. His smile just turned sad, eyes dimming.

"For the exact same reason. I remember."

"Wha-" Steve began, not understanding. But any request for a clarification was cut off, as a new group of robots rounded the street corner, zeroing in on them immediately.

"Help me up," Steve said.

Bucky didn't even deign to respond. He just got to his feet and took a step forward, blocking Steve from view.

"Dammit, Bucky, you can't take them all on by yourself."

"You'll be nothing but a distraction for me, so stay put."

It stung, but Steve knew it was true. "Take the shield."

"Keep it, in case I go down."

"Fuck, don't say that!" Steve shouted. "Take the goddamn shield, or I swear I'm gonna be fighting by your side — if I so have to crawl there."

Bucky glanced back, a glint of amusement in his blue eyes. "You stubborn punk."

Before Steve could answer, Bucky had snatched the shield from his hands and gone on the offensive.

It hadn't been the time or the place to admire Bucky's fighting style, back when Steve had actively been fighting for his life. But now, lying down and watching him tear into the robot army, things were different.

Every movement Bucky made was efficient and streamlined, no wasted movement whatsoever. He'd been a good fighter before the war, even though his style had been completely different.

Steve hated Hydra for that, as he hated them for everything else. For molding Bucky into the kind of perfect soldier who'd never in a million years do something playful or silly, like mockingly kicking an opponent's retreating rear.

Still... It wasn't the Winter Soldier he was looking at. Before, Bucky had fought with no regard to himself, having nothing worthwhile to lose — not even his own life. Now, he suddenly had something to protect. He was fighting for Steve's sake, and that made all the difference.

It was a startling realization, one that filled him with both joy and sadness.

As Bucky used the shield to decapitate the final robot, Steve got himself up into a sitting position. "Listen," he said.

"What?" Bucky answered, panting heavily. He picked up the shield and walked over to Steve.

"We can't possibly make it. They'll just keep on coming, there's too many of them. Get out of here while you still can."

"Not without you."

It was a familiar line, but that was no comfort. "You'll _die_ , Bucky. Please..."

"If I die here, so be it. At least it'll be of my own choosing."

Steve swallowed. What the hell could he say to that? As much as he wanted Bucky to get to safety, he wasn't about to force him. God knew he'd had enough of that.

A metallic clang tore Steve from his thoughts. Bucky was pacing back and forth, like a panther in a cage, kicking at the scattered robot remains. He was clearly agitated, foregoing exhaustion for rage.

"Even when I was in control of myself, I let others rule over me. Let what was deemed normal dictate what I did — how I fucking _felt_."

He stopped pacing and turned to Steve, anger shining out of his eyes. "Well, I've had it," he snarled, "you hear me?! I've had it with pretending, and I'll damn well do this before the end."

He marched forward, coming to a stop in front of Steve. He crouched down and grabbed Steve by the front of his uniform, hauling him in.

At first Steve thought he was being headbutted, because the contact was painful — then he realized that Bucky was _kissing_ him. Hard and rough, not an ounce of softness in it, nothing but anguish and pent-up desperation.

And Steve, Steve had wanted this too. Never quite understood it until this moment; until he tasted iron and salt, and had Bucky's trembling hands fisted in his clothes.

He returned the kiss, just as desperately.

When they finally broke apart, both panting heavily, Bucky was staring at him with wide eyes. "You kissed me back," he said, voice filled with wonder.

"Oh, Buck." Steve lifted his arms, pulling him in for a hug.

They sat like that for a while, just holding on to each other. It was probably the worst timing in the world, but Steve didn't give a damn. He felt happier than he had in a very, very long time.

Perhaps it was the feeling of being utterly safe, or maybe it was just due to the blood loss, but Steve found himself dozing off. The sound of Bucky's voice stirred him.

"It's not the same," he mumbled.

"Hm?" Steve shook his head, trying to clear it. "What isn't?"

Bucky twitched, almost like he hadn't expected Steve to hear him. It didn't seem like he was going to reply at first, then, "That," he said, pointing to the robot arm embedded in Steve's leg.

Steve looked down at it. It looked quite disturbing, with the way its fingers had shifted into sharp little knives — all except the pinky, which was sticking out like some demented version of a snobbish tea drinker.

"I don't get it," he started, only to cut himself off when he lifted his head and got a good look at Bucky. He was staring at the robot arm, a mixture of naked fear and disgust in his eyes. He held his own metal arm in a death-grip, fingernails and knuckles white — he would've drawn blood, had it been flesh and bone.

"It's not the same," he repeated, almost as if to himself. "I wouldn't, I... I won't — not to _you_."

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I know, Buck. I know."

Bucky didn't react.

"Hey, give me your hand."

He blinked a few times, before his eyes slowly focused on Steve's extended hand.

When he reached out, Steve pulled back. "No," he said softly, "not that one. Your left hand." He made a point of not giving it a designation beyond that; just 'left'.

Bucky hesitated for a long time, but Steve was a patient man. He knew the end result would be worth it.

There was a tremor running through Bucky's body, but his left hand was utterly steady when he finally placed it in Steve's hand.

Steve smiled and put it on his chest, right above his heart, placing his own hand on top. He hoped Bucky could feel the steady beat beneath his fingers. "I know it's not the same, because it's a part of you — and I trust you with my whole heart, Bucky. I know you won't hurt me. It's okay, I promise."

Bucky's fingers curled, clenching in his uniform before twisting slightly in Steve's grip. He laced their fingers together, and Steve had to blink back the tears lest Bucky mistake them for anything but pure joy.

\----

The lull in the battle didn't last for long.

Bucky got up without a word to meet the approaching group, taking the shield without any prompting. Steve desperately wished he could get hold of the team. Sam, Natasha, and Clint had gone with Tony to fight their way to the mainframe, and those who didn't know what that even _meant_ — he, Thor, and the Hulk — had taken to the streets to thin out the robot army and help any civilians in need.

Communications had gone to hell early on, so short of screaming for help he had no way of contacting the others. And he had to, because Bucky couldn't keep the robots at bay forever.

One of them went for Bucky's legs, tripping him. The others swarmed over him in an instant, and Steve lurched to his feet. He managed to get five stumbling steps, and then Bucky was back in action, finishing the rest off with surprising speed.

"You," he snapped, before the final robot had even hit the ground, "stop putting weight on that leg!"

Oh. Steve let out a relieved laugh, as Bucky hurried to his side. "Goddammit," he muttered, "you're gonna start bleeding again. Come on, sit down."

Steve was about to do as told, when a new group came into sight. Bucky swore loudly, and unceremoniously shoved Steve behind him.

But there were just too many this time, and Bucky hadn't even gotten a chance to catch his breath since the last assault. This was it, he'd well and truly fucked up — and, worst of all, he'd dragged Bucky into it.

The first of the robots came running at them, and Bucky tensed up. Then it seemed to just freeze in mid-motion, before it fell clattering to the ground. The ones behind it followed suit.

Everything was silent.

Tony must've managed to do his thing, and not a minute too soon. Steve let out a heavy sigh and let himself slip to the ground. Relief and exhaustion were potent partners, but no match for the panic that quickly set in.

"Bucky, please stay. Don't — don't go."

Bucky plopped down on the ground next to Steve, pulling him into his lap. "Easy," he said, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?"

"Mm. I promise."

Bucky ran his hand through Steve's hair, gently rubbing the scalp. It felt wonderful, and Steve struggled against the urge to just close his eyes and tip off to sleep.

He managed to cling to consciousness long enough to see Sam and Natasha running towards them. Bucky stiffened, and started to get up.

"Wha... Wait, Bucky! You _promised_."

Bucky turned to him, nothing but sorrow in his eyes. "I told you," he said, "you shouldn't trust me."

And then he was gone.

\----

The one good thing about hospitals was that they gave you plenty of time to think.

Steve hadn't understood what Bucky meant, when he'd said that remembering was his reason for staying away. Now, after having mulled over it for hours, he finally got it.

Bucky remembered everything, including the things he'd been forced to do as the Winter Soldier. And, to Bucky, that meant he didn't deserve to be around Steve.

It was absolute bullshit.

As soon as Steve got out of the hospital, he was going to hunt down Bucky and make that _very_ clear. And if he didn't let himself be found, well, then Steve would simply have to face some mortal danger so that Bucky felt it necessary to come to his rescue, again.

A creak from the window made him start, head snapping to the side. It was dark, only the moonlight illuminated the room, but that was enough for him to see Bucky, climbing in.

He resisted the urge to chastise Bucky for taking such an unnecessary risk — he was on the twenty-ninth floor, for Christ's sake.

Bucky was the first to break the silence. "Hi," he said, sounding almost uncertain of his welcome. "I didn't think you'd be awake, I just... I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Were you just going to leave again, if I had been sleeping?" It came out more bitter than Steve wanted it to.

"...Yes."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed for a second. He'd had such a good plan, had known exactly what he was going to say, yet now that Bucky was there he had _nothing_. His mind was empty, except for the overwhelming need to beg Bucky to stay with him. And that just wasn't gonna cut it, now was it?

"Steve?"

Bucky's voice was suddenly much closer. Steve opened his eyes to find him right by the bed, a worried frown on his face. He was still covered in grime. It didn't look like he'd had a moment of rest since leaving Steve in that alley.

Steve lifted his hand, mindful of the IV, and touched Bucky's cheek. He leaned into the touch, eyes drifting shut.

"What can I say to make you stay?"

Bucky let out a shaky breath. "I can't," he whispered.

"Then let me come with you."

Bucky pulled away, eyes downcast. "Steve, please. You don't know what I've done."

"Tell me. I don't want you to face it alone. I'll listen, and I'll do anything it takes to help — just give me a chance. I won't let you down again, I swear."

"Again?" Bucky looked up, shaking his head. "Steve, you've never-"

"I have. I failed you, Bucky. I can't ever make up for that, but I'll gladly spend the rest of my life trying. Please, just let me be with you."

"I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry, I..."

Bucky took a step back, but Steve wasn't about to let him go again. His hand shot out, grabbing Bucky's arm and yanking him down into the bed.

"What the hell," Bucky grumbled, but the rest of his protests were swallowed up by Steve's mouth.

It didn't take much coaxing; Bucky responded to the kiss almost immediately, body relaxing in Steve's hold as he deepened the kiss.

"Stay," Steve whispered between kisses. "Stay, stay, stay."

When a salty wetness mingled with the taste of Bucky's lips, Steve pulled back. He carefully took hold of Bucky's face, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

"You won't even want to _look_ at me once you know," Bucky said. His voice was unsteady, on the verge of outright sobbing.

Steve leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "If that's what you think," he said, "then I guess you don't remember me that well yet. But that's okay, I'll remind you."

"Yeah?" Bucky whispered, a shaky smile forming on his lips.

"Yeah."

"...Alright."

Fighting the smile that threatened to split his face in half, Steve threw his arms around Bucky and held him tight.

\----

In the morning, Steve managed to silently gesture for the nurse to go away — the perks of being a superhero, no doubt. But when the team burst into the room, thirty seconds into visiting hours, there was no getting rid of them that easily.

Their chatter abruptly cut off once they noticed that Steve had company, but the damage was already done — Bucky got woken up.

But he merely burrowed in closer, grunting as he threw an arm across Steve's midsection. A little lower and he would've hit Steve's erection — and wow, wasn't this awkward.

Tony whistled. "Didn't know you had it in you, Cap."

"Too early," Bucky growled, head nestled against Steve's throat. He'd always hated mornings, and was in a lousy mood unless he got to sleep till noon.

"Uh, guys...?" he said, grimacing.

"We'll come back later," Natasha said, understanding his unvoiced request. When Clint just continued to stare, she pushed him towards the door.

Both Thor and Bruce gave him a smile as they exited, and Sam offered up a sloppy salute, grinning widely. "Way to go," he mouthed.

The last thing Steve heard before the door fell shut, came from Tony. "Did you see that thing?" he said, loudly. "Could've taken out someone's eye!"

Steve really, _really_ didn't want to know what he was talking about. Maybe Bucky hadn't heard.

But fate wasn't that kind. Or, as Steve quickly amended when Bucky's hand traveled lower, fate _was_ that kind.


End file.
